


Partners

by DreamsOfSleep



Category: New Girl
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cops, F/M, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsOfSleep/pseuds/DreamsOfSleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Miller and Jessica Day are partners in the LAPD. He's trying to keep his work life and his personal life separate, but he can't help falling for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Partner

They had been partners for over 4 years. 

Winston had moved to another department so they had stuck him with her. She was a shrimpy mouse of a girl back then fresh out of training. She still had that annoyingly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed look about her. Thought she knew everything, even though she had never been out on a real job before.

He hadn’t wanted her for a partner. She seemed so weak and girly. She drove him crazy. She sang too much. She baked cookies for everyone in the department like she was their mom. They had argued a lot. She told him to stop using his turtle-face on her _(This was his only face; he didn’t have a lot of faces!)_. He said that she was too naïve and was going to get herself killed.

But then he had seen her take down a suspect twice her size using just her words and that had changed everything. 

\---

Nick had been putting the cuffs on him, but the suspect had broken away, knocking him flat on his back. The suspect grappled for the gun in his belt, pulling it out and pointing it at him. “Easy…” Nick said warily with his hands up in front of him. His breathing was loud in his ears; he could feel the pulse of his heartbeat through his entire body. He was only 25. His life didn't flash before his eyes; he was thinking about all the things he hadn't done yet. _‘God, I hope I don’t die this way,’_ Nick thought to himself. 

Jess had her gun drawn and pointed at the suspect. They were in a tense standoff. 

“I have priors, man. I can’t go back to jail,” the man said anxiously. 

“What’s your name?” Jess asked suddenly. Both Nick and the man turned to look at her in disbelief. _‘Not a good time to try and make friends, Jess,’_ Nick had thought, trying to telegraph the message to her with his glare. 

“What?” the man had asked, edgy and uneasy.

“My name is Jess. What’s yours?”

“Max,” he said.

“Are you having a bad day today, Max?”

He let out a sharp bark of harsh laughter. He looked at the gun in his hand and down at Nick flat on his back on the ground. “You could say that.” 

“You don’t want to shoot anybody today, Max,” she said with conviction. “You made some mistakes, but I know you’re not a bad person. You don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“I can’t go back to jail, Jess,” he said not looking at her. He stared straight ahead at Nick flat on his back on the ground with his hands still out in front of him.

“Do you have a family, Max?”

“Yeah…” he sighed out. “I have two kids. They live with my mom out in San Bernardino.”

“So you go back in, you do your time, you come back out and see them. You do it right this time. They would be proud of you for doing the right thing.”

Max lowered the gun.

“Are you going to let me take you in, Max?” she asked him in a soft, gentle tone.

He nodded his head. He put the gun down on the ground by Nick’s feet and backed away. 

Jess holstered her gun and took out her cuffs. Max let her cuff him and she put him in the back of the police cruiser.

She closed the door and let out a shaky breath leaning back against the car door with her eyes closed.

_‘Damn…’ _Nick had thought. He picked up his gun and re-holstered it. He got up and brushed himself off. He stared at her in disbelief. “How did you do that, Jess?”__

“I don’t even know, Nick. I couldn’t let him shoot you. You’re my partner.”

She opened her eyes and noticed that he was still staring at her slightly open-mouthed. “Are you going to keep gawking at me, Miller? Or are you going to help me bring this perp to jail?” 

He shook himself out of his daze and got in the driver’s side while she got into the passenger seat. They drove back to the station. 

\---

Her singing stopped annoying him. It just became part of the background noise in his life, something he missed when it wasn’t there. He started looking forward to Fridays because she always brought his favorite cookies then: macadamia nuts with white chocolate chips. He forgot why he had hated her bringing in cookies; cookies were awesome. He looked over at her one day sitting in the passenger seat of the cop car next to him and knew he was in trouble.


	2. Drinking Buddies

So he had a crush on her, but he could never let her know because they were partners. The department discouraged inter-office romances. It made perfect sense to Nick; it just made everything messy. _Keep your work life separate from your personal life._ It was just a good rule to have, a good rule to live by.

That didn’t mean they didn’t flirt hard with each other though. She told him he dated terrible women and had no game; he told her she couldn’t seduce a man to save her life and was everyone’s cooler. It was just regular ball-busting; nothing to take too seriously. 

\---

They would go out drinking together after work. The first few times they went out together, she would try to drink him under the table. But she was a lightweight and he was _him_ so he usually ended up holding her hair back in the bathroom stall when she would try. 

He started cutting her off around four drinks in. She grumbled about it. 

“You’re a mean drunk, Jess,” he teased her. “Plus, you’re always extra whiny when you’re hungover. You tell me you hate sunshine and then you make me play emo music in the car. It bums me out.”

“What about you?” she asked petulantly. 

“My blood is 80% alcohol, Day…I run on alcohol. I could drink all the alcohol in this bar and still do the entire trainee obstacle course blindfolded.” 

She rolled her eyes affectionately at him. _The arrogance of men._ “Hungover me is pretty much you on a daily basis.”

He laughs at that. “Pretty much. And I think one turtle-face Nick Miller in the world is enough.”

\---

When they were both comfortably drunk in the booth, she would lean against him and point out attractive women in the bar, trying to be his wingwoman. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it didn’t. 

When it did work, he would make sure she had a safe ride home and then he would throw her a jaunty salute as he was walking out the door with the woman on his arm. He never did the same for her. All these women were just hookups, one-night stands he usually never saw again. She seemed like a relationship kind of girl. He’d do this for her if any of the guys at the bars they went to were even half good enough for her, but they never were. She didn’t seem to mind though. Sometimes she off-handedly mentioned dating people, men she would meet at the grocery store or at the gym in her civilian life, but she never introduced them to him.

Most nights it didn’t work out and he usually just ended up taking her home. He would walk her to her door and she would fumble with her key because she had trouble with doors when she was drunk. He would help her inside and tuck her into bed, placing a glass of water on the bedside table because he knew she always woke up thirsty. Sometimes he would be too tired or too drunk to go home and just end up falling asleep next to her in bed wearing all his clothes. When that happened he always made her his famous hangover eggs in the morning and they would drive down to the station together after breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a reference to the Jake Johnson movie ["Drinking Buddies." ](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2265398/)


	3. Work-Wife

Nick thought being partners was a lot like being married.

She was always trying to take care of him and he couldn’t help letting her. 

===

The first few weeks they were partners, he would catch her looking at him with disapproval on her face every time he would light up a cigarette.

“What, Jess?” he had sighed out in exasperation.

“I didn’t say anything,” she replied back. Her eyes glanced at the lit cigarette in his hand and then away.

“Spit it out, Jess. I know you want to tell me something. Quit looking at me like I just told you Santa Claus doesn’t exist and just tell me.”

“You should quit smoking,” she blurted out. “It’s terrible for you and it makes the police car smell like an ashtray.”

“It helps me de-stress,” he said blowing smoke out the car window.

“Do yoga. Go to water massage. Go boxing with Schmidt and Winston. Find something else that won’t kill you, Nick.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “You’re being melodramatic, Jess. Everything kills you, one way or the other. You just pick your poison and this one’s mine. I’m an adult; I can take care of myself. Quit trying to mother me.”

“You asked me, Nick. I wasn’t going to say anything. I know you can make your own choices,” she said to him in annoyance. _“I wish you wouldn't make such shitty ones though,”_ she muttered under her breath.

\---

It pissed him off but every time after that when he lit up a new cigarette he started feeling guilty. He bought nicotine patches and gum and rode out the terrible early weeks not smoking for the first time since he had started when he was 18. He was in a perpetual bad mood, even grumpier than usual, ready to bite anyone’s head off at a moment’s notice. He popped nicotine gum like it was candy, but it wasn’t the same. He stuck on nicotine patches religiously, but still felt those intense cravings clawing into his brain. _‘These patches are fucking defective,’_ he grumbled to himself. He dreamed about that beautiful nicotine rush, that distinctive click of the lighter that every smoker knows, the heavenly smell of his favorite brand, curls of smoke rising towards the sky. But he quit because she was his partner and she had asked him to.

\---

When she noticed he hadn’t smoked for over a month, she baked him a triple-chocolate devil’s food cake. 

“What’s this for?” he had asked her.

She shrugged. “Just felt like it,” she said nonchalantly. 

He would catch her glancing over at him the rest of the day with a proud, irrepressible smile on her face. He pretended not to notice, but when she wasn’t looking at him, he couldn’t help smiling to himself.

===

They started eating lunch together regularly.

She always packed her lunch. _Fancy sandwiches, leafy green salads, homemade sushi, creative stir-frys._ Everything fresh and colorful and artfully arranged like it came out of the pages of some food magazine.

“You’re a regular Martha Stewart, Jess,” he teased her. “Where do you even find the time?”

She smiled at him and shrugged. “I like doing it. Better than what you’re eating.” She pointed to his greasy fast food.

“I’m a bachelor, Jess. Can’t cook worth a damn.”

“What about your famous hangover eggs?”

“That’s not cooking, Jess. That’s a survival mechanism.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to eat a vegetable once in a while, Nick.”

He pulled a face. “Rabbit food,” he said. 

“I’ll make you a bet,” she said. “If you stop eating fast food for a month and pack a healthy lunch instead, drinks are on me for the next four Fridays.” 

“What if I lose?” 

“You have to go out with me to that karaoke bar and actually get up and sing. For any four songs that I pick. Hope you like show tunes.”

“Piece of cake, Day. You’re on.” 

They shook on it.

\---

He hadn’t been kidding though; he really couldn’t cook anything (the hangover eggs he always made for her being the exception to the rule, but that didn’t exactly pack well). The standard peanut butter sandwich, carrot sticks, apple, and a carton of milk like his Ma used to pack for him in grade school seemed like a safe bet, but he was sick of it by the end of the first week.

“Ready to give in, Miller?” she said with a smirk when she saw that he had packed the same bland, boring lunch for a whole week in a row.

“It’s not over yet, Jess,” he shot back. She knew he had a competitive streak. He’d never just let her win; he’d go down swinging.

\---

He watched Food Network and tried to copy the recipes. He was appallingly awful for a week and a half (he almost set his apartment on fire), but he learned and got better. He still hated vegetables, but as long as they were mixed into a stew or a casserole or hidden in some other way and completely unrecognizable he could choke them down. Jess nodded approvingly when she saw his new homemade lunches. 

“Color me impressed,” she said.

\---

He made it to the end of the month. “Pay up, Day,” he said triumphantly. 

“Glad to. You did good, Nick,” she said. “Where do you want to go?”

\---

He ended up taking her to that karaoke bar anyway.

“We don’t have to, Nick,” she said. “You won. We can go somewhere else.”

“Nah. You actually saved me a lot of money, Jess. Least I could do.”

She paid for his drink and then she got up to sing while he watched her. She sang that 90s female folk ballad “Stay” and led the bar in a rousing rendition of “Purple Rain” by Prince. 

She came and sat back down next to him at the bar afterwards all flushed and slightly sweaty from being under the stage lights. She ordered a Shirley Temple for herself and another old-fashioned for him.

He thought she looked really pretty tonight, even more so than usual. She usually had her hair up in a neat bun but her hair tie had snapped so it was loose and down around her shoulders.

“I’ll get up and sing, Jess,” he blurted out. _‘Whoa, where had that come from?’_ his brain said.

She laughed. “How drunk are you, Nick?” 

“This many,” he said holding up all ten fingers jokingly. “I’ve only had one drink, Jess. I’m serious. If you come up with me, I’ll sing one song with you. I’ll even let you pick the song.”

She let out this little girlish squeal of joy and hugged him. “You’re the best, Nick. I promise I’ll pick a good song. No show tunes.”

So he got up and sang “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life” with her, which she had picked out because she loved that movie _Dirty Dancing._ And even though he couldn’t hit those crazy high notes and he would never get up and sing by himself in a million years, he had to admit it was still pretty fun because she was there belting out all the words next to him the entire time.


	4. Work-Husband

Being partners was a lot like being married so he couldn’t help doing likewise and taking caring of her in return because she was always there for him when he needed her. He felt protective of her. He convinced himself that he was just doing his job, looking out for his partner. That was partially true, but he knew it was mainly because he caught feelings from her. He thought about her all the time, even when he wasn’t on the job. 

===

He would defend her from the other male cops when they said sexist things about her. 

\---

They would call her “honey” or “sweetheart” or “cutie-pie,” when they didn’t want to listen to her. Subtle putdowns to undermine her authority and dismiss her concerns as a legitimate member of the force. It infuriated him because he knew she was too nice to confront them about it. He was indignant on her behalf because she would just brush it off and he knew it was bigger than just name-calling. “Don’t be a dick to my partner,” he would bristle at them. “It’s Jess or Officer Day. You keep calling her anything else and we’re going to have a problem.” 

So they quit doing it when he was around but he was still pissed because he had a feeling they were still doing it when he wasn’t.

\---

One day he was hanging out in the breakroom and Officer Murphy, one of the veteran cops, said to him, “I don’t know how you can stand her, Nick. She’s such an annoying shrew. There’s only one thing women like that are good for. How’d she even make it in here anyway? Doesn’t look like she can even do a single fucking pullup.” 

“Leave her alone, man,” he said defensively. “She’s a good cop. She passed training just like the rest of us did. She can take down a perp just as well as anybody else on the force; I’ve seen her do it. We’re not in the fucking Olympics anyway. It’s not enough to just be strong; you have to be fast and you have to be smart. And she’s both. Don’t let me catch you talking about her that way again.” 

He hadn’t known she was just in the hallway and had overheard him.

She pulled him aside later. “You don’t have to defend me, Nick. You’re making yourself a target. You know that’s just the way men are sometimes. It’s a male-dominated profession. I know what I signed up for; I can take it.”

“I know you can, Jess…but you shouldn’t have to. You’re still a cop first; one of us. They shouldn’t be talking to you that way or talking shit about you behind your back. Let them come after me; you’re my partner first.”

She gave him a grateful smile. She was one of the few women in the department so he had her back.

Even though their personalities were extremely different, they still respected each other. That’s what made them work so well together. He couldn’t stand by and let other people disrespect her. Good partners were tough to find. He already knew he could trust her with his life; the least he could do for her was keep her safe on the job from friendly fire. 

===

One day Jess got really sick. The flu. It took her out of commission for a whole two weeks.

The department stuck him with Schmidt temporarily. Schmidt had a million rules about what he would allow in the police car. _No eating or drinking. Only Schmidt was allowed to adjust the temperature. He didn’t allow any music in the car, just motivational tapes. No swearing or he made Nick put money in the swear jar he brought with him (“Fucking really, Schmidt?!” “Jar, Nick.”)._ They always fought over who got to drive; Jess always let him drive because that meant she got to pick the music. That was one of their unspoken rules; the radio co-captain was whoever was in the passenger seat. Schmidt was a good cop, but a pain in the ass to be around for any extended period of time. He reached Schmidt overload after only one day. He missed his real partner; he missed Jess.

\---

After work he went to go see Jess at her house and check up on how she was doing. He brought her chicken soup. 

She looked awful when she answered the door. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her face was pale with dark circles under her eyes, her nose was red. She was wearing oversized sweats and had a quilt wrapped around herself, her fingers clutching it at her throat. She hugged a box of tissues to herself. 

She looked surprised to see him, but then touched. He held up the Tupperware container of soup he had brought with him. “You didn’t have to do that, Nick,” she said.

“You’re my partner,” he said simply. “We take care of each other. Thought you might like some company.”

“I appreciate it, Nick, I really do, but you should probably just go home…I’ll get you sick too.”

“I can’t get sick, Jess,” he said mock-seriously. “Lots of kids in my family. I’ve had it all. I have immunities to germs they don’t even have names for yet,” he jokes.

“Only if you want to,” she said stepping back from the door to let him come inside.

He stepped inside and saw that her house was a mess. There were crumpled tissues everywhere. There were plates of half-eaten food sitting around. It looked like she started to fold laundry on the couch but gave up halfway through the pile.

She reached out to take the Tupperware container of soup from him. “I can do it, Jess,” he said. “Go back to bed.” 

She dragged herself to the couch and flopped down on the pile of unfolded laundry, pulling the quilt over her head. “Too far…” she whined. “Why did I buy a house with stairs?”

He found one of her pots and heated up the soup in it. He started cleaning up her place. She watched him from the couch. “You don’t have to do that, Nick. I can do it…” She started to get up to help him.

“You’re sick, Jess. You don’t have to _do_ anything. It’s a free pass to do nothing.” He glanced over at her sitting slumped in the corner of her couch. “You want me to help you get back to your room?”

“It’s far…” she whispered.

“Come on…” he said. 

He helped her up from the couch and back up the stairs to her room. He tucked her into bed. He brought her a bowl of the warm soup and made sure she ate all of it. He stayed and kept her company. He played cards with her and they watched bad television together. He cracked jokes about it to make her laugh. He gave her cold medicine and sat next to her and read books while she slept. 

Sometimes she would reach over and hold his hand. He knew she didn’t mean anything by it. He was the same way the rare times he got sick (touchy-feely); sometimes you just need someone to hold your hand. 

\---

When it got late, he turned off the lights in her room and got up to leave.

“Thanks, Nick,” she mumbled sleepily from the bed.

He looked back at her from the doorway to her room. 

“Sure, kid,” he replied back.

He slept on the couch in her living room in case she needed anything in the middle of the night. 


End file.
